Ugoki Yume
by Inari2
Summary: Tachibana finds his kobuchou and Fudomine's somber-faced prodigy slacking off during practice. What's a captain to do?


Title: Ugoki Yume - Moving Dream  
  
Fandom: Prince of Tennis  
  
Pairings: Tachibana/Shinji/Kamio, in various combinations  
  
Warnings: Angst(?), randomness, possible OOC, citrus  
  
Notes: Why? I told you, it's your fault. Inspired by Raiden, Becky, and Koon primarily, all of the other delightful OTYaoi ladies secondly, and thirdly by my twisted wanna-be muse. He's so going down after this one.  
  
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Ugoki Yume - Moving Dream  
  
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Shinji moves like a dream. The way he runs his thin fingers through his sweat-slickened hair, the way his oddly immobilizing eyes follow things as though they could see straight through, the way he moves so lightly, as if he was floating--it gets to me. Even the way he blinks, the way he pants, the way he tosses his head. It all gets to me.  
  
"Ten minute break, regulars." Tachibana-san gives me a look, and I shrug nonchalantly. Shinji is tugging on his racket strings. I lick my lips a little as I watch his fingers flex. It gets to me. Tachibana-san notices, because it gets to him, too.  
  
"Why don't you two go practice in the back. Your movement is a little stiff." he says to Shinji. Shinji is smiling--at least, for Shinji, it's a smile, and Tachibana-san notices that, too. He makes one of his vague hand motions and gives me his ten-thousand watt look, the kind that makes him seem older in the most unnervingly attractive way. I shrug and stand. Shinji's off already.  
  
"One to start?" he asks me, holding up a tennis ball. He's got that look where his eyes are narrowed slightly and his lips are turned up almost imperceptibly at the corners. I shake my head, grinning, though not all for the tennis.  
  
"Two." I say, tossing him another one. He catches it with his racket and bounces it a few times, and suddenly his face is like a child's, or maybe a kitten's, all wide-eyed self-wonder and innocence. He's like that when he plays tennis, and I love it. I love that kitten look, and I love the way his normally sedate eyes move from kitten to tiger when he gets serious.  
  
"You're the one who's stiff." he says in that voice he has, the one he uses when he knows he's right. I hear that voice a lot--he's got a way about knowing me.  
  
"Me? Not this time." I say, my brows raised. I smile like that, because I know he likes it. He serves the ball, serving with it a smile of his own.  
  
The dance begins, and I can feel my eyes haze over. It's like this with Shinji, always Shinji who brings out that almost primal part of me. He hits towards my knee, his eyes moving just so, and my body responds automatically, returning it easily towards his shoulder. He shifts, returns it, then quickly serves the second ball, and the pattern starts again, twice the pace. It's our pace, and it courses through me like a storm.  
  
"Up the rhythm." I say, and he complies silently. We move closer together instinctively, the balls flying faster. His arms are a blur around his body and his plum blue hair whips at his cheeks. His eyes are wide, blank, and I can tell that he really isn't seeing anything. Like me, the motion to him is a vague awareness, and everything else disappears. It's a high, and the both of us get livid off of it.  
  
"Akira." he says my name so quietly, but I see it on his lips, and nod. I grab one of the fast-flying balls, savoring the light sting of it on my palm, and he does the same. He tosses his ball to me and I pocket them both. He moves closer, and though his face is as calm and serene as it, his neck is slick with a thin sheen of sweat and his chest is heaving lightly.  
  
I feel myself squirm.  
  
I can feel my own breathing ragged in my chest, though neither of us are panting from the tennis.  
  
"Shinji..." I venture, and the light in his eyes intensifies. He's got me caught with those eyes, and the paralyzed stillness feels so unfamiliar to my rhythm-shaken body. He closes the distance between us, rising up on his toes a little.  
  
"Shinji." I breathe, licking the sweet taste of him off of my lips. Something flashes in his eyes, his ears perking beneath the tousled strands of his hair. I get a strange feeling, because I know that look on him. He gets that look when he knows something that  
  
you don't, and this time it makes me uneasy. His eyes shift imperceptibly, and as he tilts his head up again, I forget about the feeling.  
  
He presses his body up against mine, slowly pushing me back towards the cold concrete court divider. I can feel the soft heat of his so-familiar body, feel the subtle arch of his back as presses his knee against the wall behind me, feel the tight shifting of his lean, almost cordy muscles, and it renders my mind so blank so fast that I almost don't catch it. I dip my head down and nip at the skin below his ear, a little cautious, but he purrs and pushes himself up against me harder. I nuzzle his neck, my hands sliding up under his black tennis jersey. His skin is slick and soft and hot against my fingertips, and I kiss his jaw as he shudders against me.  
  
I draw my head up to look him in the eyes, but he softly pulls it back down to his chest and runs his hands up my thighs. He feels so good, like he always does, but something about the rhythm sets me off. He's changing the pace too erratically, and again the feeling that he's hiding something creeps into my mind. He splays his fingers against my abdomen, and he presses his cheek against my temple.  
  
"You really are stiff, Akira. Should have listened, you know..." his voice trails off, and his hands move a little lower. "...about loosening up..." his lips ghost across my ear, and I shudder under his feather-light touch. "Should have listened..."  
  
Suddenly, he's pressed tight against me, so close that I can feel the fast beat of his heart. There are hands cupping my cheeks, but they're not his.  
  
"...to Tachibana-san." he whispers into my neck, and my head snaps up.  
  
"Bu...buchou." I manage, my eyes wide. Shinji laughs quietly, the sound thrumming against the dead silence.  
  
"What will I do if you keep slacking off like this?" His rich voice is a few steps deeper than normal, a little huskier. He wraps one arm around Shinji's middle, and holds my chin with the other. "To think, my own vice- captain..." he says, eyes narrow and dark and beautiful as he shakes his head.  
  
"I guess I'll have to show you two...the proper way to loosen up." there's a smile in his voice, and he looks down at me with those father eyes, and the ache in my chest swells unbearably. Ba-dum, ba-dum, lightspeed rhythm.  
  
"Don't miss it," he says, crushing his lips against mine. I lean into him, my lips parted, my hands winding around Shinji to grip his shirt. He delves into me, and I can feel myself becoming addicted to the taste of him. The beat peaks, and he breaks away.  
  
"Loose enough?" He grins at me, languidly running his fingers up Shinji's neck. No, I think. Shinji tilts his head back and laughs mutely at me, purring again as Tachibana-san kisses the sensitive spot right above Shinji's pulse. How did he know about that..?  
  
"Back to work, you two. Break is over." His hands linger on Shinji's body as he pulls away. The two of us stare at his back as he leaves. For a moment, silence.  
  
"Da~am." I say, exhaling heavily. Shinji nods towards the exit to the courts.  
  
"Glad you approve..." he says, holding my gaze for a second before walking off. Not soon enough to hide the mischief. Like a cat with a canary.  
  
"You planned that." I say, shaking my head.  
  
"Better wipe that smile off your face before we get back." He turns to me, smiling himself, his brows raised. Damn him and his looks.  
  
"Yeah, sure." I say, exasperated in the best way.  
  
Like a dream, he moves. Like a clockwork dream.  
  
---  
  
Owari? 


End file.
